


everything's coming up roses

by lachryma



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Drunken Kissing, Fluff without Plot, One Shot, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 23:25:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19344820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachryma/pseuds/lachryma
Summary: a really soft, self indulgent piece where you -- the reader -- get an opportunity to kiss arthur.  no plot, just a simple one shot i dedicate to all of you.





	everything's coming up roses

Always has the wild spirit possessed you: mind, body, and spirit.  You can keep up with the best of them, never decaying in madness. Perhaps that is how you wound up here -- another lost sheep to the flock of ne’er do wells and misfits.  Criminals, varmints, whatever name you called them the true one never lingered far behind.  _  Home. _

Home is where the heart is. The violence simmers, here, and only barking dogs reside. _We’re all family_ , Dutch says with his arms cast wide, _act like it_. But what can you expect from those the world has cast aside? Friendliness? Gentleness? _We are all abandoned and broken creatures, Dutch_ \-- you say, smoke on your tongue -- _sometimes we need to taste our own blood_. 

In those tender moments, though, when they all gather around the fire and pass bottles back and forth - you know you love them all. Javier picks up a guitar, asks for any requests. He sends you an expectant look, and you return it. He knows which songs you like, and he’s happy to entertain.  His fingers strum and someone from the campfire hollers and whistles. Sean wraps his arms around Karen, who playfully protests. They stand and dance together, feet wild and wicked with song. Tilly joins Lenny, Molly goes to Dutch. Those that aren’t dancing, fill the air with song. 

The moon watches silently, as bodies slump over, asleep by the drink.  You yourself are stumbling when you walk up to the fire. So boldly you step upon a log, as if a conqueror.  “Who is going to kiss me!” You shout into the sky, arms thrown upwards - a challenge issued. Your throat burns with whiskey, your senses near blurred. Again, you ask: _Are none of you man enough?_

Those still left standing share a look. A rabbit presents itself at the door, but the dogs know trouble when they smell it. 

“I’ll kiss you right.” A hoarse voice says.  _ Not in your lifetime, Micah - who else wants a taste?  _

Firm hands grip your waist and lower you from your perch. “You’re gonna fall in that fire, then ain’t gonna be nothin’ left to be kissed.”  

_Arthur! Oh, Arthur!_   You turn to him, eyes wide and expectant.  “Are you goin’ to kiss me, Mr. Morgan?”  You know he’ll refuse. 

“Why would I go and do somethin’ like that for?”    _Because you love me_ , you say, wrapping your arms around his  neck. You notice, now, his hands have not left your waist. “I think that’s just the drink talkin’. Come now, let’s get you on to bed.”

You pout, you stomp your foot. You are fargone in a stupor to know how silly you look and why he laughs at you.  “I won’t go anywhere! Not without a kiss from you!

He studies you for a moment. Perhaps, had you been more sober, you would’ve seen the warmth buried in the grey of his eyes. The way his eyes search your face, lingering on the flushed hue of your lips. He gives a little hum, and you know he’s teasing you. 

“If I give you what you want, you promise you’ll go to sleep and stop screamin’ about kissin’ somebody?”

“Cross my heart, Arthur, but  _ only _ if it’s from you.” 

You catch the way he rolls his eyes before pulling you tight against him.  The rise of his chest stays still before he presses his lips against yours.  You cannot help but sigh. The taste of him is bitter - like cigarettes and bourbon.  But right now, it’s sweet. Sweeter than honey and roses. The way he moves his lips is gentle and slow, giving you any opportunity to leave, if you so choose. But you stay, and kiss him harder. Just a little bit more passion, and you’ll tip over the edge. He keeps up with you, hands going just a little bit lower, his hips bumping softly into your own.  A moan slips from behind your teeth and suddenly the world starts moving again.  He's pulled away from you, and holds himself at what he deems a safe distance.  
  


“That’s enough, now. Come on, **you** promised.” 

You’re too drunk on booze and lust to whine about how he takes your hand and leads you to your tent. He tucks you in, wraps a blanket around you and goes to leave you for the night. The flap of the tent closes, and you call out to him.  He comes back with raised brows and a little ol’ frown. 

“Sleep with me, please?”

“Now, _ listen _ -”  You stop him before he can go on to give a thousand reasons why that’s a bad idea. With a finger to your lips, you whisper “Not like that, just beside me. Sleep beside me, tonight.”

He waits and watches you, the way your eyes keep closing and opening. With a sigh, he supposes he can’t refuse. He relents and lowers himself. His boots come off and are tossed outside before he lays his head on the pillow next to yours. You don’t know if you’re smiling when you reach out and touch his arm. Arthur looks at you, but you don’t see it. Sleep takes you before you’ve the chance to see him smile a smile all his own. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [lover, say you'll never let me go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19370827) by [lachryma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachryma/pseuds/lachryma)




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